Zhenya and Lotte had a plan that, much like a chess game, depended on the opponent’s moves, on whether the man in the hall would call them out onto the landing or step into the apartment, be alone or have accomplices. Zhenya would take the gun and if he missed, Lotte could follow through with the ski poles, assuming the man obliged and came within reach. Four hours of Alexi’s deadline had already passed and fear and exhaustion were wearing them down.
In Zhenya’s hands the gun was a leaden question mark, a loss of control rather than control, a sense of doom instead of decision. Lotte couldn’t help staring at the door as if blood were already seeping over the threshold. One idea about a symbol was haltingly followed by another and sometimes minutes would pass without a word being spoken.
Lotte tried. “Two interlocked rings could mean cooperation.”
“Or two eyes, two eggs, two cymbals, two wheels,” Zhenya said.
“So you think it’s a bad idea.”
“No, but we don’t have time to be an encyclopedia.”
“It goes with the equals signs, the ears for a fair hearing and the ‘blah blah’ of the opening.”
Zhenya said nothing.
“So you think this is possible?” Lotte asked.
“Tricky,” he conceded.
“Except for a chess hustler, I suppose.”
“Yes.” Zhenya wasn’t a psychiatrist, but he felt that he could read the character and skill level of anyone who sat across from him at a chessboard. What he saw in the notes of the interpreter suggested vanity. What he saw in Lotte was that she was scared but game.
He said, “Money, China, banks, rubles, dollars, submarines. What does it all add up to?”
“What does ‘L’ stand for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Black figs?”
“Teardrops?”
“Oil,” Lotte said. “When Russia can’t pay in cash, it pays in oil.”
“And natural gas, the white teardrop.”
“For what?”
Zhenya asked, “What if the fence isn’t a fence at all, but stitches? What if they’re repairs?”
“What about Natalya Goncharova? She has no connection to anything.”
“She’s an anomaly,” Zhenya conceded.
“An anomaly is something you don’t know how to deal with. Isn’t the best clue what doesn’t seem to fit?” Lotte asked.
Scandals of the imperial court had never been Zhenya’s strong point. He said, “As I remember, Natalya Goncharova dragged her husband into a duel and he was killed. That’s about it. The stuff of romance novels.”
“Or murder,” Lotte said. “Her husband happened to be Pushkin, Russia’s greatest poet. The other duelist wore a coat studded with silver buttons. Pushkin’s bullet bounced off. Three days later he was dead and Natalya Goncharova found solace in the arms of the tsar. So, adultery, conspiracy, murder. Where do you want to begin?”
25
Since his first visit to Ludmila Petrovna’s garden, her sunflowers had become slightly blowsy, her tomatoes had grown heavy on the vine and her zucchini had gone rogue. Her weeds, on the other hand, were thriving.
A pug ran out of the cottage door in chase of a rubber ball. The dog seized the ball, shook it furiously and began to race back to a woman who leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed.
“Polo!” Arkady said.
The woman looked up. The dog stopped and tried to look in two directions at the same time, then, with an eye to a new playmate, carried the ball to Arkady.
“You’re back,” she said.
“I’m afraid so.” Arkady extracted the ball from the dog’s mouth. “I’m sorry to say your friend has no sense of loyalty.”
She didn’t smile but he had the sense that in some grim way, she was amused. “Every time I try to garden, Polo wants to play.”
“Maybe that’s the price of friendship.” He looked around the garden. “Your vegetables look ready to burst.”
“Perhaps I haven’t been paying them enough attention.”
“I couldn’t tell you,” Arkady said. “I’m not a gardener.”
“It’s supposed to be pretty simple. Plant them and water them.”
“And keep the dogs out. A lot of your vegetables look ready to pick. I could help you.”
“What about your investigation?”
“It can wait,” Arkady said.
“What makes you think I need help?”
“When I was here with Maxim, you wore dark glasses because you were sensitive to light.”
“Maxim is always looking out for me.”
“That was my impression. And you haven’t weeded since then. Ludmila was the gardener.”
“How did you know?”
• • •
Besides the dog, the derelict garden and the absence of dark glasses? He had listened to Tatiana’s voice on tape for hours. He’d have known her anywhere.
She turned and walked into the cottage and although there had been no invitation, Arkady followed. The pug followed Arkady, dropping the ball as a suggestion, letting it roll and retrieving it. While she heated water for tea, Arkady looked at knick-knacks that occupied kitchen shelves and cabinets. Family photos of Ludmila Petrovna holding babies and small children of varying ages. Postcards from all over the world. Framed photographs of the same two girls with bright smiles and golden hair biking, kayaking, running down a sand dune with arms outstretched as if they could fly.
“Who was older?”
“She was. We were only ten months apart.”
“Are these pictures of her children?”
“No. Cousins, friends, children of friends. In spite of her poor eyesight, Ludmila was an avid amateur photographer.” She placed two cups of tea on the table and sat. “Sugar?”
“No thank you.”
“All the men I know have their tea plain. Why is that?”
“I don’t know. Why do all the women I know suck tea through a sugar cube?” He caught her in the act.
“I told Ludmila not to come to Moscow, but she always had to be the big sister. She hated to worry and I’m afraid I made her life miserable. How did you know? Oh, yes, the dark glasses.”
“You seemed to have been miraculously cured.”
“It was as simple as that?”
“More or less.”
“Do you think I’m going to get out of here alive?”
“I doubt it. You could take your chances as Ludmila, but my guess is that they’re suspicious.”
“Why do you think they’re suspicious?”
“I noticed on the way in there’s a man in a car watching your door.”
“That’s Lieutenant Stasov. He’s made me his personal project. He pushed his way in and searched the house. Now he lingers on the street.”
For a second Arkady had the impulse to touch her and see if she was real and wondered how often she had
